


The Alliance

by Uthizaar



Series: The Cycle of Theodric [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Beltaine, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Curses, Darach Theo Raeken, Deception, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Druids, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Human Sacrifice, Implied Sexual Content, Liam Dunbar Has a Big Dick, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Manipulation, Masturbation, Merged Twins, Minor Corey Bryant/Theo Raeken/Jordan Parrish, Minor Liam Dunbar/Isaac Lahey, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Mysticism, Nemeton, No Chimeras, Nudism, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pagan Festivals, Pagan Gods, Polyamory, Prophetic Dreams, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Has a Big Dick, Snakes, Spells & Enchantments, Storytelling, Top Ethan, Twincest, Vanity, Voyeurism, Werewolves, cum, mass orgy, top aiden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-03 16:47:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14573289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uthizaar/pseuds/Uthizaar
Summary: This story is a sequel toThe Colors of a Druid, and part of my year-long seasonally updated Druid Teen Wolf story series, in which I transport the characters back to the time of the Celts. I'm trying to maintain some historical accuracy in descriptions of the characters, their names, and locations, but some licence will be taken.The festival of Beltaine marks the beginning of the summer and, for our heroes, the threat of invasion from the evil darach Findabair and her allies, the feral Halh werewolves! In order to stave off their destruction and defeat the cruel tyrant, Stiles, Scotti, Liam, and Korey of the "Big-Dick Clan" travel to an ancient meeting place to cement an alliance with the Chieftains of the other clans of the south...





	1. The Stone Rings

**Author's Note:**

> Since "Jackson" proved to be particularly hard to translate-it literally means "son of Jack"- I decided to go with Colton instead, which blurs the lines a little, but Jackson just didn't feel right amid the other characters. Even Stiles and Malia sound enough like fantasy names to pass off as coming from the “strange northern lands”, his didn't. Coltún (Colton) meanwhile was recorded as a place name in 1085 for the abundance of coal in the region around Leeds, UK. So, in this story Colton becomes "Coltún" and is pronounced the same.

The sun was beginning to peek through the rain clouds that had covered the valley since sunrise, allowing Stiles to shake the water off his cloak and pull his hood back, blinking in the rays of warmth that dappled his face. Scotti was walking alongside him in silence, head bowed and eyes on the stony road in front of them, the Chieftain’s sullen attitude palpable. “The day is clearing.”

“Hmm.” Scotti grunted, not looking at him. “We still have a few hours travel to the stone rings, and we’ve already been walking for three days.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles’ lips twitched at Scotti’s complaining, patting the spectral blue bear, Roscoe, on the head and nodding towards the hill in front of them. “Over that pass and we’ll be almost there, flat land from the moment we step off the road and onto the grass.”

“If you say so.” Scotti looked over his shoulder, glaring at Korey and Liam behind them, the two younger men laughing and racing forward and back, trying to hit each other with birch saplings torn from the side of the path. “Ugh!”

“Leave them be,” The druid replied, touching Scotti’s arm and encouraging him to continue. “You remember what I told you about this meeting, do you not?”

“Of course; the clans are sending their Chieftains or representatives to the stones rings and there we’ll…err.” Scotti glanced at him, “I forget.”

Stiles sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Findabair will make her move on the southern lands soon enough, Scotti, we must be ready. The war season begins once Beltaine has passed us by, that is mere days hence, but we do not know if it is then she will make her move, or later in the season.”

“I thought you were able to foresee her movements?”

“A great shadow has cloaked the land from my auguries,” The druid replied, masking his anger. “Findabair is skilled at the magical arts and has been inflicting them on others for longer than either of us have lived. But back to the matter at hand, we cannot fight her and her werewolves alone; we need allies and, thank the gods, there are four other powerful clans willing to strike such a bargain with us. Theodric and I have been able to connect with each of the representatives coming to the meeting place.”

“Using magic?”

“Of course,” Stiles nodded, lips twitching at Scotti’s reverent tone. “Have I left the village since the snows melted and the world has returned to life? With so much to get done in so short a growing season, I couldn’t just leave you to, haha, raise the children!”  
Scotti huffed at Stiles’ joke, looking again at Liam and Korey. “Are you certain that bringing them was a good idea? They’re playing games!”

“They are young, and on a wild adventure of magic and war, they will grow serious when the time comes.” Stiles reassured him. “But we must show the others that you are a Chieftain to be respected; that you have strong warriors by your side. Not to forget the weapon Korey has forged either; that could be just the bargaining chip we need, should one of the Chieftains prove unwilling.”

“If you say so.” Scotti grunted, eyes on the ground again as they climbed up the slope of the hill, picking their way around boulders and scree to reach the top, the ground levelling out just as Stiles had said it would. “Come along you two!”

“Coming!” Liam called out in reply, dropping his branch and racing up the slope with unnatural speed and grace, leaving Korey to struggle up by himself.

“Damn it, Liam.” The smith grumbled under his breath, blinking suddenly when he felt a pressure on his back and ass. “What…Roscoe!” The spectral bear was pushing him up the slope, large head nudging Korey towards the top. “Thanks, Stiles.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Korey scrambled to join the others as Liam stood proudly against the sky, hands on his hips, breathing hard. The smith smirked to himself and crept up behind Liam, pushing him forward without warning, causing Liam to stagger away, turning a vengeful eye on Korey. “Hahaha, your face!”

“I’ll-”

“I said, enough!” The Chieftain growled and the two immediately fell quiet. “We’re too close to the stone rings for you to act so foolishly, we have to be taken seriously by the other clans and I can’t-”

“Easy, Scotti.” Stiles broke in, patting his shoulder and smiling at the forlorn expressions on Liam and Korey’s faces. “Take a breath and remember that you do not have to speak unless you wish to. Remaining silent in this gathering is just as powerful as speaking. Watch the other Chieftains, learn what you can from their interactions and what they do when we arrive. Understand?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

“Good, it will be noon soon, and the meeting place is still half a day’s walk from here. We’ll break for food now, and resume in a while.” The druid pointed at a nearby oak tree, its trunk thick and branches hanging over a grassy carpet. “There. Korey, make a fire, Liam, unpack the supplies, Scotti, uh, you should relieve yourself behind the tree, there won’t be many more of them where we are heading.”

“How do you know that I need to…go?”

“You’re squinting a lot and you are holding the head of your cock.” Stiles replied with a grin, nodding at the Chieftain’s hand near his knee. “If you were merely holding it, I would have said you needed a different sort of relief! Another reason for bringing Liam, hmm?!”

 

“Stiles?” Korey called out, finishing setting flint stones against each other, the fledging flames catching on the twigs and dry bark in the small circle he had made. The smith added branches to the fire as it grew, waiting for Stiles to come over to him, the druid having dismissed Roscoe back to the Otherworld. “Um, I was wondering why we are meeting so close to Beltaine? Should we not be at home for the festival?”

“We will be,” The druid nodded, crouching next to him. “The accord has already been agreed, the Chieftains must simply meet each other and make the alliance in the presence of the gods. Do not fear, we will be home in time for Beltaine.”

“Good.” He smiled. “It _is_ the druids’ festival after all!”

“Among other things, yes.” Stiles looked up as Liam approached, offering him dried meat and the last of their bread. “Thank you.”

“This place we’re going,” The warrior glanced at Korey, before looking back at Stiles, Scotti joining them at the fire. “You’ve been there before?”

“Twice, yes.” Stiles sat down and began to eat. “Once was with Dictone, when he brought Theodric and I to commune with the gods, a secret ritual of which I can speak no more of.”

“And the other time?”

“Hmm,” Stiles lowered his gaze, staring into the fire, seeing Scotti shift around uncomfortably. “When my father was killed, he had only one request: to be burned to ash and scattered around the sacred stone rings so that he may one day find his wife; she who walks the ever-shifting plains of the Otherworld.”

“Oh,” Liam muttered uncomfortably. “Apologies, I did not know.”

“It matters not,” The druid forced a smile to his face. “We are going to a place of ancient magic, where it is said that the Tuatha Dé Danann first crossed from the Otherworld and set foot into our own! Each were as tall as giants, as strong as ten men, with crowns of golden hair and gleaming muscles, each carried a shield of dozens of colors and a sword with a glowing silver blade, cloaks trailed behind them as the warriors who felt no touch of cold walked freely into our land, unburdened by armor or clothes!”

“Wow!” Liam and Korey breathed, eyes wide as Stiles continued his story.

“The stones rings were built before their arrival, and though it has become the site of many tales of legend since the Tuatha Dé Danann first came from there, you must travel a great distance to see it. It is a journey not for the faint of heart or the feeble of will.” Stiles spread his arms, pointing to the west. “That is where we are going: over bare rock and stone, where no grass grows or water flows, half a day’s travel across that barren land to the ancient meeting place of gods and men and,” The druid paused, looking at Scotti and Liam, “ _other_ things of this world. The way will be lit and protected by our magic, so Findabair will not listen in on our meeting.”

“Sounds like we should get going then.” Scotti stood up, finishing his meal as Liam helped Korey with the small fire. The chieftain frowned and turned quickly, pulling out his sword as he stared at the tall, dark-haired and pale-skinned youth that had managed to creep up behind them. The handsome young man was leaning on a spear as tall as he was, playful smirk around his lips as clever eyes watched them. “Who are you?! What do you want?”

“Easy, Scotti.” Stiles rushed over, hands held out between them and the stranger. “This is Íosác, a friend, a Chieftain of the river clan, they who live next to lakes and eat only the flesh of fish.”

“Ah.” Scotti sheathed his sword and nodded shortly at the man, eyes skipping over the forest green cloak that covered his back and shoulders, his chest and stomach remaining bare, short trousers and uncovered foot-bindings completing his attire. “Greetings.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, I simply smelt the smoke and guessed that it would have to be one of the clans travelling to the stone rings.” Íosác smiled widely and approached, grasping Scotti’s offered arm and pulling him into a brief hug. “Who else would be walking across this desolate landscape?”

“Who indeed.”

“And you,” He turned to Stiles, “Honored to meet you in person, master druid. I regret that I have come alone, but my warriors are preparing for Beltaine and this is but a mere formality. My clan has always come to the aid of druids when they call on us.”

“Thank you.” Stiles bowed to him, gesturing at Liam and Korey behind him. “Our warrior, Liam, is among the strongest in our clan, a taste of Scotti’s strength, and this is Korey, our smith.”

“Smith?” Íosác frowned and then began laughing. “Why would you bring a smith to this meeting?! His place should be in the forge, and even then, they are of little use!”

“What?!” Korey gasped. 

“You-” Liam’s angry growl was cut off by a flash of Scotti’s red eyes and he fell silent, glaring at the other Chieftain. 

“Perhaps you do not have the same needs as our clan does,” Stiles said in a smooth tone. “After all, we plough the fields and raise our animals and trade with all sorts of clans, as well as building weapons of war.”

“Yes,” Korey spoke up, standing next to Stiles, a confident turn in his voice. “Your spear; it’s made of ash, if I’m not mistaken, but the tip is fire hardened only. That might work for hunting fish, but against the strong hide of a feral werewolf, it will bounce right off! Not this,” He pulled out his dagger, showing off the burnished bronze blade. “This would slice right through and kill the beast with ease.”

“Perhaps, though you would have to be standing next to him to use it.” Íosác shrugged, glancing at Stiles. “Apologies if I hurt your smith’s feelings, clearly you have need for the use of his talents.”

“Indeed we do,” Stiles smiled and gestured for them to continue on their way. “Korey’s mastery of bronze and the new metal of iron have allowed us to make use of a boon Liam found in the woods after he witnessed a clash between two of the gods.”

“Oh?” The Chieftain’s interest was piqued, and he looked more closely at Korey. “What sort of boon?”

“A fragment of Lugh’s armor, enough to forge a weapon from it that has been imbued with the power of a god!” Stiles grinned at his expression. “Can your blacksmith do that? No? I didn’t think so!”

 

As the afternoon progressed, the group entered the karst landscape of endlessly flat plains of naked limestone as far as the eye could see. Stiles directed them along a thin line of the grey rock towards a tall incline. The druid slowed and held up his hand as he spotted two other travellers approaching them, dark red cloaks wrapped around their torsos and grey hoods obscuring their faces. “Stop.”

Scotti glanced at Íosác and placed his hand on his sword, “Who are they?”

“Do you recall me telling you about the twin brothers, one a druid, the other a darach?” Stiles replied, shading his eyes as the duo came closer to them. “Aiden and Éatán, they who can unify to destroy their enemies.”

“I remember.” Scott muttered, keeping a hand on his sword. “You said they were powerful magic users, skilled in the creation of potions and poisons?”

“Yes,” The druid stepped forward his hands held palm-up in greeting. “They will be mighty allies in our fight with the witch.”

The two strangers stopped a short way off, pulling back their hoods to reveal handsome faces and bright, clever eyes. Their skin was darker than the others, the hot sun of the far south giving them a healthy glow, the tan reaching across their bodies and under the thick wool that covered well-built torsos. Aiden was the first to move towards Stiles, smiling openly and grasping his arm. “Greetings to you, master druid, we have travelled a long way and it is good to see a friendly face.”

“Likewise to you, darach.” Stiles repaid the greeting, nodding at Aiden and gripping his arm, before turning to Éatán and smiling. “And you, my fellow druid, I see you brought the sun with you from the far southern reaches!”

“We try our best.” The other twin inclined his head, stepping past Stiles towards the rest of the group. “Greetings to you, Scotti, Chieftain of the guardian clan, the Nemeton remains safe in your care, I trust?”

“Uh, yes?” Scotti looked helplessly at Stiles. “Though, um, we haven’t been known by that name since my father was Chieftain.”

“Ah,” Aiden smirked as his brother extended greetings to Íosác. “We have heard of your clan’s new title, and we would see proof before believing the rumors of your gods-enhanced manhood!”

“But not right now.” Éatán glared at Aiden and nodded at the top of the incline. “There is but one rise left before we are at the stone rings and I would like to see them before we attempt to prove the gossiping of traders and lustful virgins alike!”

“As you wish, brother.” Aiden released a dramatic sigh and gestured for Stiles to lead the way. He looked at Scotti with a grin, “Do not think that this is over, Chieftain, we all have our boasts, and I’m sure Coltún will wish to judge the strength of your new name too.”

“Let him!” Scotti grinned back, slipping a hand under his cloak to fondle his massive cock which had been growing harder the more the handsome darach had been talking about it. “I’ll be happy to show you both that the stories are true, I’ll even let you hold it in your hand, so you feel the weight of our blessing!”

“Are all your warriors so…blessed?” Íosác asked as he cast his eyes over Liam.

“We had a bountiful sacrifice at Samhain.” Stiles answered for Scotti. “The gods were pleased, and the fertility of our clan has never been so rich. But I would ask you to silence yourselves now, for we have arrived at the sacred stone rings.” He pointed, and the group followed his finger down the gentle slope to a flat plain of the same, barren rock they had journeyed across.

A large ring of standing stones stretched around a central monolith that was driven into the ground, the strange blueish-white, crystalline nature of the stone was utterly at odds with the limestone around them. A second ring of tighter grouped stones divided the outer layer from the inner, four equally distant gaps left around its circumference allowing entrance. There was a smaller circle of jet-black standing stones that encircled the white rock itself, still wide enough for several warriors to stand next to each other and speak comfortably. At four points around the outer ring, there were close-fitting clusters of knee-high rocks driven into the stone, each a different hue. But what had caught their attention the most was the sudden and unexpected sound of the ocean crashing against the base of the cliff on which the stone rings were set.

“The edge is right there…” Korey whispered, staring at the dark grey-green waves as they rolled in from the horizon. “Of course! That’s how the Tuatha Dé Danann stepped out of the Otherworld and into ours, just like you described in your story, Stiles!”

“Yes,” The druid resumed walking, moving down the slope to lead the group into the outer ring of standing stones, following a row of torches that had been lit to ward off both the setting sun and chill from the ocean breeze that swept across the site. “It looks as though Theodric and Iordáin have arrived before us.”

“I can see them,” Liam nodded, his brows pulling together as he spotted a woman in a long, white dress, her pale cloak streaming out behind her in the wind. He was about to question Stiles when they entered the second ring and he saw the man standing next to her. “Uh…” Liam could tell at once from the way he carried himself that this man was the other Chieftain, Coltún. But more than simple posture, his noble features and ornate broach that pinned his heavy cloak around his neck told the warrior of his status. Apart from a bulging thong that just about covered his cock, and a pair of what looked like fur-lined shoes, the man was naked, his smooth, muscular body gleaming in the afternoon sun, nipples rock hard with the chilling wind lifting his cloak. Liam tilted his head, hearing Korey’s surprised-and aroused-gasp beside him. “Hmm,” The Chieftain’s skin was almost _too_ shiny, his face _too_ handsome, his hair _too_ perfect. “Is that…?”

“Coltún,” Stiles answered with a nod. “And next to him is Lidia, their clan’s druid. Do not be taken in by his appearance, Findabair cursed their clan long ago to suffer as snakes on two legs, that display of beauty is as much a weapon as the knife on your belt. Do not let your guard down, Liam.”

“If you don’t trust them, then why are they here?”

“Because their clan is closest to the Divide between the northern and southern lands.” Theodric answered for Stiles, meeting the group at the edge of the inner circle. “And we need them. Greetings, my old clan.”

“Theodric,” Stiles grinned at him, clasping his offered hands. “There are many introductions to be made, our own reunion will have to wait.”

“Very well,” The darach brought them back into the third ring, standing next to the enormous white stone and gesturing for them to gather around him. “Now that the clans have gathered, let us begin.”


	2. Iron and Magic

“You all know me and Stiles,” Theodric gestured at the druid opposite him, “For we have spoken with each of you individually to create this alliance against the evil that is seeping into our lands from the north. But I do not think all of you have met one other.”

“Part of the reason we have gathered here.” Stiles added, stepping forward to join the darach at the monolith. 

“And the other?” Lidia glanced at him and then back to Coltún. 

“To plan and prepare and decide our direction.” Theodric answered for him, spreading his hands wide. “Within the stone rings, our words are guarded by powerful magic, outside of its protection, however, Findabair may be able to hear us. But we’ll get to that later, first, introductions. As I said, you know me: Theodric, darach, now of the mountain clan, who are represented by Iordáin.” He pointed at the hunter nearby.

“Thank you, Theodric.” Iordáin raised his hand in greeting. “My Chieftain does not leave the mountain often and has sent me in his stead. While our warriors may not be as numerous as yours, Íosác, they are well equipped with the strong, iron weapons and shields our smiths create. We pledge our forge to this alliance.”

“And we welcome it,” Stiles replied graciously, nodding at Scotti next, a touch of anxiety wrapping itself around his stomach, for all that the Chieftain looked the part, he had no experience of the careful diplomacy needed to speak to the other clans. “I am Stiles, druid to Chieftain Scotti of the Guardian clan, keepers of the sacred Nemeton-”

“Really?” Coltún smirked, folding his arms as his biceps bulged. “You’re still clinging to that title, Stiles? I thought your Chieftain had something he wants to show everyone? That’s the whisper we’ve heard from traders, at least.”

“Hmm.” The druid grunted, seeing Scotti looking at him in a mix of expectance and excitement. “If you insist, Scotti of the ‘Big-Dick’ clan, introduce yourself.”

“Thanks!” Scotti grinned at the group, before catching Stiles’ furious expression and toning down his exuberance. “Um, I don’t know what to say, other than the fact that we have been fighting Findabair the longest and she’s willing to destroy everyone in her path to get to us, which isn’t good news for you, Coltún.”

“Perhaps,” The handsome man smirked, dismissing his words with a wave. “But I’ll speak to your druid about the perils of the Divide, we have all heard that you traded sense for…added length so, let’s see if the rumors are true!”

“Feast your eyes on this!” Scotti proclaimed loudly, pulling off his cloak and dropping his trousers to his ankles, heavy cock swinging back and forth, the half-hard tip brushing against the top of his knees. “Satisfied?! You can hold it, if you wish to feel the power of the gods’ favor!”

“Ugh,” Stiles shook his head as Theodric raised a brow and Coltún nodded slowly. He could see Lidia looking at him with narrowed eyes, while both the twins and Íosác sniggered at Scotti. “If we can get this back on track, Scotti…”

“But they wanted to see and you-”

“Now!” Stiles snapped, his frustration finally slipping loose. The druid closed his eyes and took a deep breath as Theodric placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s been a long day’s travelling, perhaps we should all rest for a while?”

“Perhaps,” Stiles nodded slowly, opening his eyes to see Scotti standing with his hands on his hips, unashamedly naked among the other clothed Chieftains. “Do the rest of you agree to some rest? We can continue once night falls and the cooler air will settle ardent passions.”

“That seems a good idea.” Lidia agreed quickly, nudging Coltún until he nodded.

“Yes,” Íosác replied, looking around the stone rings. “But is there a way I can wash off the dirt of the journey? We of the river clan do most of our travelling by boat, my legs rarely get the use they had these past two days!”

“We’re surrounded by stone,” Scotti frowned. “Stiles said no water could flow across it.”

“It does not flow across it, true.” Aiden grinned, pointing towards the cliff edge, “But it does flow _under_ the surface. There are caves over there that we can rest in; the center one has a pool of the clearest water you’ll have ever seen.”

“That should do.” Íosác nodded, joining the twins as they led the way across the inner ring towards the cliff.

“Come,” Stiles beckoned Liam and Korey to follow them, Scotti hurrying after the group once he had pulled his clothes back into place, glancing at Stiles even as the druid refused to make eye contact with him. He led them out of the second ring, and into the larger third ring where, cleverly hidden among the grey stone, a shallow dip ran into a wide cave. The glitter of iridescence sparkled across the ceiling, a still pool of vibrant blue water visible at a turn in the rear of the cave. Stiles pointed towards it. “Over there, it’ll be cold, so wait a moment.” The druid walked forward, meeting Aiden at the edge of the pool, both of them crouching down.

“Dóiteáin?” 

Stiles nodded wordlessly and placed his hand next to Aiden’s, their fingers bent towards each other, though not quite touching. There was a moment of silence as the others shuffled around behind them, but then the magic flared, and a connection of yellow flames lanced between their fingers. The water started to bubble, steam rising off the surface and into Stiles and Aiden’s faces, the two of them holding the spell for a moment longer before they stood up, pulling their hands out of the water. “That will keep the pool hot for long enough to soak and wash the dust of your travels away.”

“You’re not staying?” Korey asked as Éatán and Coltún pushed past him to inspect the pool. He glanced at Theodric when the darach moved to join Stiles. “Will I-”

“Best to stay here.” Stiles lowered his voice, leaning close enough to Korey’s ear to whisper, “Keep an eye on Scotti and Liam, and remember what I told you about Coltún.”

“I understand.”

“Theodric and I must speak alone.” Stiles announced to the cave, but only Lidia caught his eye and nodded, following him back out into the stone rings. The three of them walked slowly back towards the inner ring, each smirking at the other. “Well, best to let them get friendly the only way they know how.”

“Not all Chieftains are the same, Stiles.” Iordáin rolled his eyes at them, hearing the raucous laughter spilling from the cave’s entrance. “At least, not the ones with more focus on their people rather than on their cock.” The hunter wrinkled his nose and touched Theodric’s arm briefly before moving out towards the edge of the outer ring.

“Did I offend him?”

“Not exactly, he’s creating a perimeter, ensuring our safety against the more mundane threats we might face in these wild parts.” Theodric explained. “The witch may not touch us inside the sacred rings, but who knows what evil she is creating outside of them?”

“A topic we should speak of in more detail,” Lidia said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Now that the children are occupied!”

 

Korey glanced over at the twins as they stood closely together, whispering words he didn’t understand, the language rough and harsh against his ears. He watched with interest when they pulled out rounded clay pots and removed the stoppers, a golden haze emerging from both of them and filling the cave with a soft, glowing light. Korey grinned at Aiden when the darach turned to look at him, better able to see with the magical illumination. “That’s a clever trick.”

“Thank you,” He nodded, removing a heavy cloak and the padded underclothes. “The air is much colder in this part of the land than in our home, but it need not be so dreary all the time.” Aiden gestured for Éatán to follow him and the two retreated to a quiet corner of the cave, letting their belts of woven silver thread fall away, revealing almost identically smooth and muscular ass cheeks. The twins slipped into the pool and Aiden again whispered something into his brother’s ear, this time looking directly at the blacksmith. 

“Err.” Korey felt himself blush and quickly averted his eyes as Liam sniggered next to him. The warrior had already stripped off and was lounging at the water’s edge, his large, hefty cock brushing slightly against his thigh as Íosác unashamedly admired him. Korey scowled and removed his boots, rolling up his trousers to sit on the smooth stone lip of the pool, soaking his aching feet in the surprisingly hot water. “Mmh.”

“You are not getting in?” Liam glanced up at him, pushing water over his chest and up his arms, splashing it into his face. “It is…magical!”

“I am comfortable here.” Korey replied, frowning as Íosác finished taking off his clothes next to them, the slow reveal obviously intended to arouse Liam’s passions. He was only angry that the tactic was succeeding, but the smith remembered what Stiles had said about paying attention to the other clan leaders and kept quiet. _Perhaps he will reveal more than just his cock…_

“You can sit next to us, certainly.” Liam smirked, patting the stone invitingly as Íosác grinned and milked the head of his cock, foreskin sliding up and down the erect shaft. If his intentions hadn’t been clear before, they were now. Liam wet his lips, glancing at Korey, seeing him shrug and taking it for approval. “I am sure you are no stranger to the water, Íosác?”

“No, it is almost a second home!” The Chieftain spoke softly, caressing his body with the hot water, running his hands over pale skin and hard muscles. “Should you come to my village, Liam, you could enjoy it too. There is nothing quite like… _unifying_ under a waterfall, it has to be felt to believed.”

“Um, we’d like that, right, Korey?”

“By all means, bring the smith!” Íosác grinned at him, eying Korey’s muscular arms, well worked from hours spent at the forge. “Especially with the festival of Beltaine almost upon us, it is a time of feasting and merry-making and indulging…every desire, often two at once!”

Korey looked away from him as Íosác continued to talk-and seduce-him and Liam, his gaze caught by Scotti and Coltún, the two Chieftains standing in the center of the cave, close to the edge of the pool. They had been talking quietly since Stiles and the others left, but Korey could hear them clearly now, voices raised in an argument over…size?

“Length is obviously more important!” Scotti boasted, gesturing with one hand at his crotch. “Girth has nothing to do with prowess!”

“Nothing?” Coltún repeated with a sneer, hands placed on well-defined hips, fingers tapping on the V-shaped lines leading towards his own manhood, the outline straining against the fabric covering it. “Length is good when you need a spear, but not when fucking a hole! The thickness of my cock is what gives those of my clan their pleasure! Most can only dream of being so well-filled.”

“Madness!”

“You dare?!”

They looked as though they were about to start fighting when Éatán stood up, water pouring down his smooth, tanned body and not insubstantial cock and balls. “Enough, my fellow Chieftains, do not use your fists to settle a contest that can only be decided through the engorging and comparing of your cocks!” 

“That seems only fair.” Coltún nodded first, with Scotti hurrying to agree.

“Yes, I will clearly win! _I_ have been blessed by the gods themselves!” Scotti began to strip off again, as the other Chieftain simply undid his cloak and stepped out of the small thong, his large cock springing up, the tip grazing his abs. “What?”

“Oh, nothing,” Coltún ran a hand down his glistening muscles and curled his right arm tight to display his large bicep, the other hand on his cock, attempting to encircle the thick shaft and failing. “I just see that you spend far too much of your time fucking and having your clan worship your admittedly massive dick, and no time training for war.” The Chieftain smirked and swept his eyes up Scotti’s torso. “You’ll need to change that for our alliance to bear fruit: you may be able to club our enemies to death using your cock as a weapon, but do you have the strength to wield it?”

“I’ll show you strength!”

Korey rolled his eyes as the two of them continued to bicker and argue, idly kicking his feet through the water. _I wonder what Stiles is doing…_

 

“You cannot hope to defeat Findabair with iron alone,” Theodric shook his head slowly at Lidia. “We will need both strength of arms and the favor of the gods to stop her and the werewolves she commands.”

“I am aware.” Lidia replied frostily, looking at Stiles instead. “But it is not _me_ you must convince, Coltún believes that we can hold them back at the Divide as we have always done. There is but a narrow neck of land between the marsh on one side and the sheer cliff face of the mountains on the other.”

“You may have been able to hold the position in the past,” Stiles conceded. “But your strength has not been tested against the witch herself, or her band of warriors.”

“Besides, people slip through the Divide all the time,” Theodric pointed at Iordáin. “Hunters come and go without hassle on our side, meeting only the odd patrol. And they do not chase them off or warn them of the dangers.”

“If fools wish to cross the Divide, we say, let them!” She spread her arms wide, golden torcs glimmering in the setting sun as the wind whipped the stray fabric from her dress into a white stream behind her. “It is not Coltún’s duty to protect them from that. And how can you be sure she will attack us there, the forests to the east are vast and stretch northwards, Findabair could just as easily strike the river-lands and catch us all by surprise while we are guarding the Divide!”

“I know.” Stiles sighed. “That is why the alliance must be made; each of our clans has strength, but we also have weaknesses. I know the curse that haunts your clan, Lidia, just as Theodric and I both know you do not suffer from it because of-” 

“Don’t!” Lidia glared at him, looking over her shoulder towards the cave, relaxing as the sounds of water splashing reached them. She turned back to Stiles. “If you know the truth, then what is it you want?”

Theodric exchanged a glance with Stiles, nodding when the druid raised a brow. “We know that Coltún takes your council seriously, there is no other reason a man as proud as he would join us here. But it will be the combined might of all the clans that will destroy Findabair and her army: iron to cut through the werewolves that surround her, and magic to defeat the witch in this world and the Otherworld both.”

“Convince Coltún that when his warriors fight alongside those from the other clans that he is not losing honor or glory,” Stiles took up where Theodric left off. “But rather that he is fighting for the respect and admiration of the entire southern lands.”

“Hmm.”

“And should that not work, you can tell him that as the greatest of the warrior Chieftains here, he may wield a weapon with the power of Lugh Himself woven into its core.” Stiles looked up at the white, stone monolith next to them. “I have hidden it in a secret space in the Otherworld, so close at hand here among the stone rings.”

“I can feel it; the veil pressing against us.” Lidia nodded, and glanced between them. “Very well, I’ll speak to Coltún, but what of the others? Can you be certain that Íosác, the twins, and the mountain clan will actually help us in battle, and not exploit the crisis for themselves? War season is almost upon us, Stiles, and the fragile peace between the clans is poised to shatter. Add in the trickery of the Halh clan and we are all walking along the dagger’s edge.”

“They will join us,” Stiles assured her. “Iordáin speaks for his people and while they may rarely leave their mountain village, they will come for this fight. The river clans might be peaceful and indulge their carnal desires more than the rest of us, but their ties to the Nemeton ensure they will answer the call to arms of a druid.”

“And Aiden and Éatán?”

“Their clan villages are far from us, that is true.” Theodric sighed, tucking his hands into the wide sleeves of his robe. “But their magic is among the most powerful of all who walk these lands, their potions and salves will save many lives in the battles to come. Not to mention their unique ability to merge with one another: flesh and bone and blood unifying into one terrifying creature. I have seen the shadows echo it in the Otherworld.” The darach added as an explanation. “To see them do so in this one would be…fascinating.”

“Very well,” Lidia pursed her lips, looking back into the mouth of the cave. “I will speak with Coltún before we resume our discussion of the accord.”

“Thank you.” Stiles nodded, gesturing for Theodric to walk ahead of him, the two of them leaving Lidia to deal with the increasingly boisterous sounds coming from the cave. “I would speak with you alone, my friend.” 

 

“The land is quiet?” Theodric asked Iordáin as they stopped next to the hunter, the younger man placing his hand on Iordáin’s shoulder. “No threats?”

“Nothing. It is utterly still.” Iordáin replied, looking at them. “Will we be beginning again soon? It seems too great a risk for us all to gather here in one place.”

“Yes, soon.” Stiles answered, continuing to walk on, Theodric smiled at Iordáin and ran to catch back up with him. They moved in silence until Stiles stopped at one of the four clusters of knee-high standing stones; these ones were brighter in hue than the others, a reddish orange tint covering their tips. “This is where the druids of old would sacrifice a new-born to the Dagda in the hopes that He would grant them insight into the battles of the war season.”

“A pity you did not bring one of Scotti’s whelps then!” Theodric laughed at his dark joke, but Stiles was silent. “I didn’t mean that, I-”

“It wouldn’t matter, I have already experienced the dreams,” The druid glanced up from the stones to look at Theodric directly. “Even with the help of the five clans and all their warriors, the final clash will turn the rivers red with spilled blood and the essence of death will soak into the soil for seasons without end.”

“It was just a dream,” The darach placed his hand on Stiles’ arm. “They speak in riddles and half-truths. I have told you before not to pay any attention to them.”

“And if it were any other night, I wold have listened to you, but not on the equinox.” Stiles shrugged him off and frowned at the center of the stone rings, seeing the Chieftains, Liam, and Korey emerging from the cave, all naked and flushed save for the blacksmith. “On the night that the moon and sun trade places, this was no mere dream. We will be there together in the end, Theodric, facing Findabair, that much I have seen.”

“And the victor?”

“I do not know, all I see when I think of the battle is a waterfall of crimson red, and a fleet of dead warriors clogging the river out to the sea.” Silence fell between them until Stiles shook himself out of it and sighed. “Come, the Chieftains can be worse than children at times, but we need their support to defeat Findabair and the Halh clan."

“Iordáin is not a Chieftain,” Theodric protested as they began walking back to the center of the stone rings. “Please do not throw him in with Scotti and Coltún!”

“I did not mean him, he is an honourable man.” Stiles replied, smiling at him. “And it warms my heart to see you and he are still joined. With Beltaine so close, I could make it a lasting bond, Theodric?”

“Um, you would have to speak to him first.”

“Haha, as you wish, perhaps when he is Chieftain of the mountain clan!” The druid chuckled when Theodric looked sharply at him. “I have met their leader once before, you had been exiled and the mountain clan was struck by the wasting sickness. With no druid or darach to aid them, they sent a runner to our village. Scotti was…distracted, so I went alone. He has strength and honor, but he is a man for whom death will come soon as it came for his sons: Iordáin is the obvious successor.”

“He told me about that time, said he returned to half a village, though he never mentioned that you were the druid who saved the rest of them.” Theodric shrugged, slowing as they approached the inner ring. “I suppose that does explain why Iordáin rarely uses your name, a mark of respect among their clan is to use titles that recall past glories. I think that is part of the reason they will fight in the alliance and share their weapons with the other clans.”

“Hmm.” Stiles grunted, watching Liam and Korey turn and start walking towards him. “Go and find the hunter, I must speak with these two alone.”

“Stiles.” The darach nodded and slipped away.

“Well, did you learn much of our new allies?” The druid asked as soon as they were alone, arching a brow when Liam sniggered, and Korey flushed. 

“Um…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dóiteáin" means "fire" (Say it: Dough-tawn)
> 
> Lugh: Celtic god of skill, crafts, the arts, and a few other areas. Often depicted as a youthful warrior hero.
> 
> The Dagda: god of fertility, agriculture, manliness and strength, magic, druids, wisdom, with control over life and death, weather, crops, time, and the seasons.


	3. The Threat Within

“What is it?” Scotti asked Stiles as he was pulled to one side, the druid’s normally serious expression having become even more so. “What’s wrong?”

“I have spoken to both Liam and Korey, as well as to Theodric to hear his opinion on this matter, and he agrees with me that it has gone too far.” Stiles gestured at Scotti’s crotch. “While it is true that the gods have blessed you with great fertility and greater, hmm, a greater manhood than any who live in these lands, it appears that the gods also have a dim view of he who would boast that he is ‘better endowed than the gods themselves.’”

“It was only once! And he was very impressed!” Scotti protested, not liking where this was going. He placed his hands and arms defensively beneath his waist. “I didn’t think the Gods would notice that!”

“Mmh, well, they have. And in granting your latest addition, it appears the gods have taken from you as well as given.” Stiles glanced around, but they were still alone, the rest of the alliance gathered around Iordáin as he finished cooking a rabbit stew over the fire Theodric had made some time earlier. “I had noticed your loss of wit and reason before, but I only truly see it now, among the other Chieftains.”

“Coltún-”

“Is far cleverer than he pretends to be.” Stiles broke across him, wagging his finger in Scotti’s face disapprovingly. “The curse that affects his clan has not dulled their wits, if anything, it has sharpened them into poisonous barbs. My point is that you must suffer a little to please the gods and in turn, reclaim the ability to lead your clan.”

“But I don’t want-”

“Scotti! It is happening whether you like it or not!”

“I’m your Chieftain! You have to do what I say!” Scotti glared at him, fist curled threateningly under Stiles’ nose. “I’m not giving anything up!”

“Really?” The druid looked at him coolly and folded his arms across his chest. “You sound more like a child who has been told it is time for bed than he whose clan is charged with guarding the Nemeton.”

“I don’t care, you have to listen to me!” Scotti stamped his foot in frustration and pouted at Stiles. “I said, No!”

“Very well,” Stiles growled, reaching into a pouch on his belt and squeezing a runestone until it crumbled. Power rushed up his arm and raced across his face, making his eyes glow a sinister green. The Chieftain stared and stepped back, an apology forming on his lips. “No, Scotti, if you wish to act like a child, then you can become one! _Óige_ ” Stiles thrust out his arm and threw the dust of the stone into Scotti’s face. 

“Argh! Argh! Argh!” The Chieftain staggered backwards, his screams gradually becoming quieter and higher pitched as Stiles’ magic reverted him from fully grown man to a child of five or six. “What did you do to me?!”

“Be silent, child,” Stiles smirked, ignoring the gasps and dropped pottery from the rest of the group. “Perhaps when you have learned that druids and darachs answer only to the gods will you be fit to walk among us as Chieftain again.”

“Stiles! Get back here! Stiles, I command you to come back!” The child yelled at him, attempting to run after the druid and tripping over his long cloak. “Gah!”

 

“Uh, was that truly necessary?” Theodric asked as Iordáin reverently handed a bowl of the stew to Stiles. “I know he can be difficult, but…”

“I do not have times for games.” Stiles glanced around at them all, only Lidia and the twins meeting his eyes. “And neither does this alliance. We have all experienced the heavy snows of this winter, but I alone know the suffering that Findabair can bring to bear on a clan. That was before she harnessed the Halh werewolves to fulfil her plans for complete domination, I shudder to consider what horrors she can unleash on us now. We will forge this alliance tonight, it will be sealed with blood and magic, so all know that this is not a treaty that will fail due to treachery.” He looked at Coltún, the Chieftain nodding slowly. “Break word of this meeting to Findabair and you will become dust on the wind.”

“The Keepers of the Divide stand with you, master druid.” Coltún said as Lidia stood up. “We discussed the merits of the alliance and I understand the importance of the role we are to play in holding back Findabair’s army should she attack from the north. But my warriors are not so proud that they will turn away iron weapons, Iordáin. Our trade will be equal, I know that your Chieftain prizes the green serpent stones we harvest from the marsh.”

“If you insist, Coltún,” The hunter spoke carefully, glancing back to where Scotti was still trying to untangle himself from his cloak in the outer ring. “Though we too recognize the threat of the witch and seek no profit from our alliance.”

“Good.” Stiles nodded slowly, looking towards Íosác. “You have said that you will support the druids without question, what does that support look like?”

“You will have my warriors,” The house wolf replied, his expression sobering as he picked up his bowl from where it had fallen earlier when Stiles cursed Scotti. “The Fair Folk see us as children of the forest too and will protect our villages should we be attacked. That means you can have our archers and spearmen. The rivers and lakes are ever full, and we do not plant crops as your clan does, master druid, we can be at the Divide in four days as soon as you send for us.”

“Thank you, Chieftain.” The druid glanced at Theodric as he nodded at the still struggling Scotti, a cry of frustration heard across the stone rings. Stiles sighed and gestured at Liam and Korey, both of whom had stayed tactfully silent since the display of power. “You two, go and untangle our _noble_ leader and bring him back here. Make sure you grab his cloak too, we do not need another distraction curtesy of Scotti’s cock when I return him to full size.”

“Yes, Stiles.” Korey bowed quickly to him, pushing Liam to move, and the two of them raced out of the stone rings. “He’s over there!”

“You have asked much of the clans,” Aiden started, leaning against his brother and catching Stiles’ eye. “But have not said what the Guardians of the Nemeton will be bringing to this alliance. And I am asking of the clan, not of one of the most powerful druids to ever walk these lands.”

“Flattery is not required.”

“It is the truth.” Éatán replied for Aiden, spreading his hands wide. “You may have acted in the heat of the moment, but none of the rest of us could unleash a curse like that with so little invocation of the gods.”

“Stiles is the reason why we have this alliance.” Theodric said, glancing at his friend. “We all have our strengths and weaknesses, Éatán, but my former clan has the unifying strength of will needed to defeat Findabair.”

“And the Nemeton.” Stiles added. “From which flows all the power of druids and darachs both. My clan is blessed that we are so close, and it from that sacred tree that we gain our strength. We may not have numerous warriors, or skilled weaponsmiths and deep veins of iron, we may not be allied with the Fair Folk, or possess the healing arts that you do, Aiden, but our clan commands respect for past deeds and a linage that reaches back to the Tuatha Dé Danann themselves. _That_ is what the Guardian clan will bring to this alliance.”

“Also,” Theodric added with a grin. “The Dagda speaks through Stiles, so you might need his prophetic dreams to see what’s coming.”

“A seer?” Aiden looked at Éatán, his brother nodding eagerly. “Tell us more.”

 

“I can’t believe that Stiles did that!” Liam muttered to Korey, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the druid couldn’t hear him. “Scotti is going to be so angry when he gets big again!”

“Well…”

“What? You think that was justified?” 

“Face it, Liam, Scotti has been getting more witless since Samhain, and the other Chieftains noticed it,” Korey complained. “You saw how easily Coltún got him to forget about the alliance and show off to everyone. Stiles said that the snake would try something like that, and I bet he’s just delighted that Scotti can’t be there to challenge him for leadership of the alliance.”

“Yes, but that’s Stiles’ fault as much as it is Scotti’s.” Liam pointed out. “And you’ve enjoyed riding his dick as much as I have, I don’t want to see it go!”

“Maybe not, but if Scotti had his way, all we’d do is fuck each other all day and night long.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“Who do you think makes sure that the fields are ploughed and planted? Who organises the hunters and gathering parties to go into the forest? Not to mention the traders, or tells me what tools and weapons I need to make?” Korey looked at him, shaking his head as they approached young Scotti. “Without Stiles, the clan wouldn’t just fall apart; we’d starve!”

“Hmm.” Liam grunted, reaching down to pull the Chieftain’s cloak off his head. “Come along, the druid wants to see you.”

“About time!” The child version of Scotti glared at them both, his high-pitched voice causing Korey to smirk, pressing his hand against his mouth to stop the laughter that threatened to spill out. “He is going to regret this!”

“Um,” Liam shuffled around uncomfortably as they started back towards the center of the stone rings. “He has a point, maybe for the good of the clan you should let Stiles reduce the size, not all the way, but enough that you regain your lost wits and are still large enough to satisfy the needs of the clan and, um, this is too peculiar…” 

“What? Talking to a small version of Scotti about the size of his…thing.” Korey sniggered at him. “Let’s just get back to Stiles and let him sort it out.”

“Good idea!”

 

Theodric looked up as Liam, Korey, and Scotti returned to the central ring. Stiles had finished explaining his dream to Aiden and Éatán, the twins nodding sagely and talking among themselves. The stars were bright overhead as a half-moon hung low in the sky, its silver face looking down on the waves beyond the edge of the rings. The darach nudged Stiles and nodded at Scotti. “Do you think he’s learned his lesson?”

“Perhaps.” Stiles moved forward, looking coldly down at the child. “Well?”

“Apologies, master druid.” Scotti kept his head bowed, saying the words with what sounded like genuine respect. “You were right, but we should discuss it more when we return home, and not argue in front of the other clans.”

“That is acceptable.” The druid nodded, reaching into another pouch and blew silvery dust into Scotti’s face as he had done before. “ _Fás_ ” Stiles stepped back, watching as Scotti groaned and returned to his fully-grown size, clutching his cloak to his crotch as he did so, the cold wind from the ocean whipping across his exposed chest and stomach. 

“Thank you.” He gasped, shuffling to one side, not quite meeting the druid’s eyes, instead accepting Liam’s help to re-dress himself. “Um, what did I miss?”

“The alliance is almost complete,” Stiles replied, his voice calm, as though everything was normal between them. “All that remains is for one of the Chieftains to be appointed the leader of the union.”

“I thought that was you?”

“ _Chieftain,_ I said.” Stiles shook his head, “Not druid, not darach. Coltún is perhaps the obvious choice, but if you have put childish tantrums behind you, the history of our clan would give you the right to challenge him for the title.”  
“In battle?” Liam looked up from fixing Scotti’s torc back around his bicep. 

“No, not quite.” Stiles gestured for them to gather around the center of the inner ring, speaking to all of the group. “Tradition would have you battle one another for such an honor, but we have neither the time to delay or the blood to spare to follow such rites. Instead, I would ask those who wish to be considered leader of the alliance to step forward.” A smile pulled at his lips as Coltún, Scotti, and Íosác immediately did so, the twins moving together as one, and Iordáin stumbling slightly when Theodric pushed him into the group. “Very well.”

“Each could do it, Stiles.” Lidia said, looking the Chieftains over. “And we cannot decide: power, prestige, and a place in the history of our people comes with such a title. How are we to name a leader?”

“I had Korey craft a sword that took the fragment of Lugh’s armor into its very heart,” Stiles explained as he turned to face the monolith. “A weapon of power and strength that divines he who wields it as worthy…or not.”

“Iron and magic.” Coltún nodded slowly, turning to look at Korey standing nearby. “You must have some skill, my young friend.”

“Thank you, I do.” The blacksmith replied confidently. 

Stiles moved closer to the white stone, pressing his right hand against its surface while extending the left into the empty air beside him, palm up and fingers spread wide. “ _Oscail. _” The druid whispered, a shimmering aura encompassing his hand and causing it to vanish. Stiles felt the grip of the sword against his palm and wrapped his hand around it, pulling the weapon out into the real world. “Behold, _Ceartas_ the sword that will destroy Findabair’s evil!”__

__Korey grinned at the gasps that greeted the weapon’s unveiling. He had worked on the blade for five nights, heating and folding the iron over and over again until the metal was without flaw, its edge straight and true, the fragment that Liam had found in the forest was set at the sword’s core, the glow of its magic spreading through the blade. It had taken Korey and Stiles three days and nights to direct the magical properties towards the runes that the druid had him set in the iron, the resulting flash of light from their success had blinded everyone in the village until morning of the next day. “A weapon fit for a king.” Korey whispered as Stiles swung the sword once, golden light shining in the darkness, after-images hanging on the air._ _

__“But not a druid.” Stiles smiled at him and used both hands to hold the sword out to the Chieftains, one on the pommel and the other on the blade itself. “Take the hilt and should the gem in pommel light up like solstice sun, you are our leader, and the alliance will be forged.”_ _

__Scotti wet his lips and looked at the others nervously before stepping forward with a shaking hand to grasp the sword. “Woah!”_ _

__

__Day broke over the stone rings as the members of the alliance prepared to break camp. Stiles looked at Theodric when the darach approached him, “Problems? Are they still upset after last night?”_ _

__“They believe that you used your influence to keep the power centered in your own clan.” Theodric shrugged. “You and Korey both made the sword, so it makes sense that Scotti would be the one you’d choose to wield the weapon. Unless…there’s something else you want to tell me?”_ _

__“That the gem would light up regardless of which of them touched it?” Stiles smirked mysteriously. “Well, that would certainly be underhanded of me!”_ _

__“Yes, it would.” Theodric shared his smile, “Almost like something Iordáin confided in me this morning; that you want him to send materials for Korey create other weapons that are ‘god-touched.’ He didn’t tell me how you would be achieving this, however.”_ _

__“Hmm,” Stiles glanced at him, and gestured for the darach to come closer. “You recall the cursed lake some distance from the village, yes?”_ _

__“The place Dictone told us never to go? Yes, I went there often!” Theodric grinned at him. “Never stepped foot inside the water though, I could feel the…evil inside it.”_ _

__“Sometimes we must harness evil to fight evil.” Stiles took a breath, holding out his palm to Theodric, a strange symbol engraved on a water-smoothed stone: a closed eye. “Balor.”_ _

__“Stiles!” Theodric glared at him and quickly pressed the druid’s fingers back on his palm. “Have you lost your mind?! I know Findabair is powerful but calling on Balor will only add to our problems, not solve them!”_ _

__“He is securely locked beneath the lake, do not concern yourself, Theodric.”_ _

__“Then…you want the cloak that hides His eye of destruction from the world.”_ _

__“Exactly,” The druid nodded, looking back to where Scotti was proudly holding aloft _Ceartas._ “Only a god-forged weapon can damage the artefacts of the gods themselves, and with the cloth from that most destructive of deities, Korey will forge weapons strong enough for every Chieftain to wield. And Findabair will be the one to watch her clan die around her!”_ _

__“I see that vengeance still burns in you, Stiles.” Theodric sighed, placing his hand on the druid’s shoulder. “Just make sure you do not lose yourself in the fires, your clan needs you more than they know.”_ _

__“You are right, my friend, it is a dangerous path to walk.” Stiles moved away from him, seeing Liam wave his goodbyes as he left with Íosác, Scotti standing next to Lidia and Coltún as they waited with Korey and Iordáin for Theodric to return, the two clans and their guests travelling together until they got to the mountain. He could see Aiden and Éatán looking his way, no doubt eager to be off. “We all have distance to travel, and with Beltaine starting in a few days’ time, it is best we leave.”_ _

__“Splitting up is a wise decision, especially with Scotti as the alliance’s leader, it shows that perhaps your clan can unify the land.” Theodric said as they walked back to the center of the stone rings. “I will take care of Korey and ensure he returns to you safe.”_ _

__“Thank you, Theodric, I will see you soon.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Óige means "Youth" (Say it: Oh-ig-yeah)
> 
> Fás means "Grow" 
> 
> Ceartas means "Justice"
> 
> Oscail means "Open" (Say it: Oush-Kal)
> 
> Balor was king of the Fomorians, a group of supernatural beings. He is often described as a giant with a large eye in his forehead that wreaks destruction when opened, and is considered to be a god of death, drought, and blight.


	4. Water and Stone

Liam looked up at the tunnel of green leaves, the branches of trees woven into an intricate design overhead, Íosác guiding him along the well-worn path through the forest, waist-high grass on either side as birds flittered and flew around them. The early morning sun shone through the leaves, casting a speckled, green shadow across them. “We’re nearly there aren’t we? I can hear running water from over that direction.”

“Yes, only a little while now.” Íosác grinned at him, trailing his hands through the wildflower meadows that began to encroach on the path. “Your village must be so dull and grey through the winter! No plants and everything covered in snow, urgh!”

“Well, it’s not like we have the aes sídhe as allies,” Liam shrugged, throwing his cloak off as he rolled up the sleeves of his tunic, suddenly warmer than before. “They’re responsible for the greenery and the flowers and the heat?”

“That’s right,” The Chieftain slowed down next to him, directing Liam towards a tall stand of oak trees, their thick trunks blocking off what lay beyond. “Our villages are kept full of color and joy throughout even the harshest of winter months, and the air is always warm, even if the sun does not shine on our bare skin as often as some would like!” He grinned as they passed between two trees, seeing several of his clansmen lounging under the boughs, totally naked and casually stroking each other’s cocks. Íosác flung his arms apart, walking backwards to face Liam. “Welcome to the river-lands!”

“Uh, thanks.” Liam mumbled, forcing himself to rip his eyes away from the trio of handsome youths playing with one another, the middle one beginning to moan loudly as a fountain of cream erupted from his cock and splashed across his tanned chest. The warrior felt his cheeks flush as they entered the village, everyone around him was naked, their skin bronzed from the sun, and as smooth and flawless as rounded stones from a river. He wasn’t sure where to look, seeing couples fucking in full view of their neighbours, while groups of five or more lay on the long wooden dock stretching into the river, some diving off and swimming, while others simply sucked a cock or passionately kissed each other. Yet more were cooking and filleting fish, going about their daily chores without a stitch of clothing to cover themselves. “Um…”

“Cast off your shame, Liam!” Íosác dropped a hand around his shoulder, steering him towards the large roundhouse that dominated the center of the village. “And you can cast off your clothes too while you’re at it!”

“Err, um, maybe?” Liam swallowed hard, looking up instead of down as they climbed the stairs at the foot of the dwelling, having to step over and around couples of naked and joined villagers; men, women, old and young, it seemed all of Íosác’s clan had given themselves over to the pursuit of unrestrained desire; the air filled with moans and shouts of pleasure. As he concentrated on his surroundings instead of the fucking, Liam noticed that the village was almost indistinguishable from the forest around them: the houses were made of wood, like his village, but these were also built alongside and into the large trees that dominated the landscape. 

The ones nearest the water had streams flowing next to their doors, or in one case, he could see a pool on either side of the house joined together with a stream through the middle. He ducked his head, entering the interior of the roundhouse, stopping dead at the sight of more lovers around him, these ones seeming to be closer to his own age, rabbiting hips and thrusting buttocks on full display as soon as he stepped across the threshold. “Oh…”

“I meant what I said, cast off and join us in our celebration of Beltaine!” Íosác grinned wider and pulled his cloak off, dropping it next to the roaring fire that was sending out waves of stifling heat from the center of the roundhouse. His pants and shirt soon joined them, and Liam ventured a little closer, losing the Chieftain’s naked form in the haze that filled the building. “Every pleasure is at your fingertips if you wish to indulge it, ally!”

“Hmm.” Liam dropped his travel sack on the ground near the fire, adding his cloak to the pile. He paused for a moment, hesitating with his fingers on the collar of his tunic. “Well, if everyone else is naked, I don’t want to stand out…” The warrior shrugged and pulled it off, tugging down his trousers a second later and stepping out of them. He shivered excitedly, feeling strangely free as he walked around the fire completely naked, glancing into the sleeping spaces as he did so. 

Some were empty, while others were occupied, Liam moving back when he saw people inside. The villagers didn’t seem perturbed however, most gesturing for him to join them; Liam lingered at the entrance to one space, a muscular young man that reminded him of Korey was busy ramming his cock in and out of a woman of about the same age, her fiery red hair falling about her breasts as she urged Liam to give her his cock. “Um, err, another time.” The warrior turned away, ears burning, even as he began to get hard, jumping when a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“I knew you’d get into the spirit of our festival!” Íosác pulled Liam back into his smooth, naked body, holding him for a moment, half-hard cock pushed against Liam’s muscular ass cheeks, but Íosác let him go again, offering him a goblet instead. “Come! We’ll sit under the waterfall and drink to our new alliance!”

“As you say,” Liam managed, unable to resist the urge to touch himself with his spare hand, watching Íosác’s naked form lead the way back outside, this time taking a side exit. The warrior hurried after him, still having to step over more entwined couples and groups, following Íosác around the other side of the village to where the wide river that flowed next to the settlement branched off and flowed over rockier ground. Liam had to concentrate now, his dick softening as he focused on not tripping on the mossy stones. “Where is this waterfall?”

“Not far, now,” The Chieftain called over his shoulder, stepping onto a grassy bank. “When the sun shines through it, it is as though a thousand gems are sparkling right in front of your eyes. And the cave behind the falls catches the morning sunlight so perfectly on Beltaine that the gods must truly bless all those who lay in it. Though, I think your clan is plenty blessed by the gods already, hmm?!”

“You could say that.” Liam nodded, seeing Íosác grin and look hungrily at his crotch, shamelessly fondling himself as he did so. _Anything to seal the alliance, I suppose? Although, he does have a great ass, and the way his clan were fucking back there, maybe with the aes sídhe they don’t have to worry about starving if they don’t work the, err, lake…_ “Thanks.” He smiled gratefully at the Chieftain when Íosác thrust out his hand to Liam, pulling him up onto the bank, the waterfall glistening in front of them.

 

“To the alliance!” Íosác held up his goblet, now filled with rich, red wine, clinking it against Liam’s equally full cup. “May we always be bound together as friends!”

“And may the horrors of war never touch these sensual halls of nature!” Liam grinned, drinking down the liquid and smacking his lips in satisfaction. “That’s some fine stuff.”

“Thank you, we are lucky to have such a variety of trading contacts across the eastern sea.” The Chieftain shrugged, sitting on a long smooth rock at the back of the waterfall next to Liam. They had both been drenched getting into the cave, but the warm sun soon dried them off and the two had stretched out their legs into the spray of the waterfall, resting back on their hands, muscular arms becoming prominent. Íosác freely stared at Liam’s big dick, limp as it was, though growing larger as the attention made him flush. “Your Chieftain never did answer me; are all of your clan so blessed with large cocks as he is?”

“Not all, just the warriors, really.” Liam shrugged, drinking more of the wine. “Stiles didn’t receive the blessing, or Korey either, well, he really didn’t want to!” _And Scotti would never have agreed to him having the blessing either…_

“Hmm, but your handsome smith is already big where it counts, hmm?!” Íosác grinned wider and nudged him playfully in the ribs. “I saw his arms, even if he did not want to bare his chest in the pool with the rest of us. You must have many nights of pleasure with him!”

“Uh, yes, of course.” Liam flushed again, titling the last of the wine into his mouth. “A pity he isn’t here to see this, err, the cave, I mean. There are some fine crystals in the back of it he’d like to examine closer.”

“Yes, I wished you both had come with me, though I understand why each of the Big-Dick clan went to a different ally.” Íosác sighed, swirling the contents of his goblet around, his hand now resting on his thigh, close to his half-aroused cock. “It is not good fortune for young lovers to be apart on Beltaine, you know?”

“I do,” Liam felt his pulse quicken and he met Íosác’s gaze as the Chieftain’s eyes darted up and down his body. “But Korey knows that the importance of this alliance is greater than the festival, he even said that we might have to do…things to seal the bond, to show that I have your back, as it were.”

“Oh? What kind of things?”

“I think he meant partaking in the clan’s activities, celebrating Beltaine as they do, as their Chieftain does.” Liam smirked as Íosác’s cock hardened fully. He reached into the Chieftain’s lap and grasped the thick shaft, working it up and down rapidly, grinning at the slick, slapping noises that reached his ears over the roar of the waterfall. “So, care to teach me _all_ your traditions?!”

 

“There it is!” Korey grinned, eagerly following Theodric and Iordáin into the well-fortified village near the summit of the mountain, ignoring the shiver that crossed his skin at the cold air and howling wind whipping along the streets between the stone houses that perched on the carved-out ledge. “This is amazing! I’ve always wanted to see the storied halls of the mountain clan; Liam would never go with me though. He said it was always too cold.”

“Only in deepest summer do we ever find heat in the sun, that is true.” An older man stood at the entrance to the largest cave Korey had ever seen, torches burning brightly against the grey cloud of the afternoon. He smiled at the smith and offered his hands to Korey, palms up, golden torcs and silver rings adoring his arms and wrists. “I am Chieftain Fionn Mac Gabhann, of the mountain clan, and I greet you as an equal, Korey, master smith of the Guardians of the Nemeton clan.”

“Greetings, Chieftain.” Korey knelt before the man covered in the furs of many animals, rising when Theodric and Iordáin put a hand under each of his arms and pulled him up. “Uh, did I do something wrong?”

“A greeting is enough, Korey.” Fionn smiled at him and turned back to the interior of the mine. “Follow us now and partake in our festival of Beltaine: roaring fires, as much meat as you can devour, and fresh mead from our stores deep in the mountain. Later, we will talk on this alliance and see what Iordáin has secured for us.”

“Go on,” Theodric nudged Korey forward, walking next to him as the hunter brought up the rear. “He’ll just want to understand the terms of our pact, I can explain that to him, you don’t really have to say anything.”

“Very well.” Korey mumbled, his attention on the decorated stone pillars that shored up the roof of the mine, becoming even more ornate the deeper into it they went. The earthen floor began to slope downwards gently, a warm, orange flicker of light visible at the turn in a corner beyond them. “What’s that?”

“Nearly there: the heart of the mountain.” Iordáin explained, smiling when Korey glanced back at him. “All our richest seams of iron can be found flowing outwards through the rock from this one place. It seems fitting that our ancestors put the Chieftain’s Hall here, don’t you think?”

“At least it’s warmer than outside.” Korey nodded, stepping into the large, cavernous space. Two large bonfires stood at either end of the room and a third burned merrily in the center, providing much of the bright light that he had seen from the tunnel outside. The smoke drifted upwards, cleverly stolen away by gusts of wind from tunnels high above leading to other parts of the mountain. A large forge dominated the space, the massive anvil curving around the blazing embers was big enough for a dozen smiths to hammer on at once. “Wow.”

Korey moved forward, blindly heading for the forge, running his eyes over the neatly stacked rows of iron, copper, and tin ingots, the raw ore sitting in separate piles nearby. He traced his fingers carefully across one of the hammers, whispering to himself as he examined the craftsmanship and carving on the handle. “This is amazing!”

“I see you’ve found the pride of our clan,” Fionn joined him as Theodric and Iordáin left to relieve themselves and take a drink after their long journey. “That hammer was once held by the great smith of legend, Goibniu. Ah! You’ve heard of him then!”

“Heard of him? Yes, of course!” Korey nodded furiously, snatching his hand away from the hammer as though he had been caught handling a sacred artefact. “He made weapons for the gods, the Tuatha Dé Danann themselves! Did he…Was that…was that here?”

“Can’t expect me to give away all our secrets, now, eh, Korey!” The Chieftain gestured for the blacksmith to walk alongside him. “Iordáin is a fine hunter, and a good leader for our clan, especially with a powerful darach such as Theodric by his side. But you and I: we’re both smiths, or, at least I was until the sickness came, I can’t hold a hammer any longer. Still, we both know that when war comes, it is the strength of the weapons and armor that _we_ forge that make the difference in battle.”

“Your clan has been generous in sharing its iron with us,” Korey bowed shortly to him, taking the offered seat at the Chieftain’s long table next to the central bonfire. “And I’m working hard to create enough new swords for our warriors. The bronze ones look pretty enough, but the metal is not strong.”

“Theodric tells me that you were to be offered to the Nemeton as a sacrifice to give your Chieftain and his chosen warriors a boon to their fertility and manhood, is that right?” 

“Yes,” Korey answered slowly, glancing at the darach when Theodric sat next to him, Iordáin sliding onto a stool opposite them. “But Stiles and Theodric saved me from the Otherworld and killed enough werewolves to satisfy the gods and grant Scotti his blessing.”

“But to even think of throwing away a metalsmith!” Fionn glowered at the table, shaking his head furiously. “I question whether such a man can be Chieftain, let alone be the leader of the alliance.”

“How-”

“I sent word ahead.” Theodric answered, smirking at Korey. “Stiles isn’t the only one with spectral animals at his command!”

“Hmm, well, I don’t know how to answer your criticism of my Chieftain.” Korey moved around uncomfortably, whispering a silent word of thanks when pitchers of mead were carried in, and massive chunks of charred meat were laid out on the table in front of them. He began to eat, letting Iordáin explain what had happened at the stone rings, only speaking when Fionn asked him a direct question, or Theodric didn’t answer. 

“Hahaha!” The Chieftain roared with laughter when Iordáin told him about Scotti being cursed by Stiles. “Now _that_ is a druid I can respect! But to mock the gods and think he was above them? Tell me, why does this Scotti lead our alliance with the other clans?” 

“For all that he has let his pride of manhood and fertility cloud his judgement, Scotti remains a strong leader.” Korey replied, wiping grease from his chin and taking another gulp of the strong mead the mountain clan drank. “We all lost our parents many cycles ago when Findabair attacked the allied clan of Stiles’ father, burning their northern village to the ground and killing all who had travelled to aid their defense. Stiles’ people were wiped out, and he’s the last of that line, sworn to rid the land of Findabair’s evil.”

“And Scott for all his failings now, held the clan together, kept them safe and fed and alive.” Theodric added. “If Stiles can convince him that a reduction in the size of his cock is worth the gain in intellect and respect, or if he can summon the magic to do it anyway, Scotti can once again be a warrior worth following into battle.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’.” Fionn sighed, leaning back in his chair, pushing his hands into the furs covering his large frame. “But I will not be the one fighting in these battles, our sons and brothers will be, eh, Iordáin? Our clan is among the smallest in the southern lands. Should Findabair decide to take our iron or capture our mountain stronghold, I have little faith that we would be able to throw her back. We need this alliance as much as you need our iron for weapons of war, master smith.”

Iordáin pursed his lips, glancing among them, before turning to his Chieftain. “Then you agree? The pact stands?”

“Aye, the pact stands.” Fionn got up with a groan, Korey and the other two joining him. “Our Beltaine feast will have to continue without me, friends, I feel the weariness drawing in again.”

“Do you need potion?” Theodric offered, backing off when Fionn waved him away. “We’ll be here, should you need us, Chieftain.”

“Thank you, darach.” Fionn turned to Korey, resting a heavy hand on his shoulder, a glimmer of a smile on his worn face. “And if I do not see you again, master smith, may the gods smile down on you and guide your talented hands to perfection of iron and wood!”

“Thanks.” Korey replied softly, watching him leave, brows pulled together in confusion.

 

“Why did he keep calling me ‘master smith’?” Korey asked Iordáin and Theodric as they sat down next to one of the big bonfires. “I’m just the village blacksmith.”

“Not _just_ any blacksmith, Korey.” Theodric shook his head, looking to Iordáin. “Right?”

“It is because you have the skill that not many do. It is a mark of great respect between craftsmen; in fact, I’m almost certain that your presence here alone secured the alliance.” The hunter replied, smiling at his expression and explaining further. “It took our own smiths many moons to just figure out how to melt the iron ore down and remove the impurities that filled it. But Theodric tells me you discovered that knowledge within days of us delivering that first cart of iron. Only a smith blessed by the gods would have such intuition.”

“Hmm, I suppose.” Korey shrugged, glancing up as two young men danced by, their shirtless torsos gleaming with sweat in the heat of the fire. He smiled as he watched them pass, recognizing the carefree look and bulge in their trousers. “So, Beltaine is the same here as elsewhere?”

“For the most part, though it is confined to the caves and tunnels of the mountains, no forests to spend the night in for the young lovers. Or bathing in the dew of the next morn for a year’s worth of beauty!” Iordáin laughed good-naturedly. “But plenty of us will jump the bonfire tonight: some to find love, others to keep them safe when they leave to trade or hunt, and there are two women heavy with child that wish to leap over the flames to ensure their delivery is eased.”

“Um…” Korey stared at him after hearing the last part. He blinked and looked at Theodric. “That doesn’t happen in our clan.”

“No, as I recall, Scotti loves Beltaine; it’s a time of unleashed sensuality and pleasure! Where anyone can fuck anyone else with no consequence or argument, something I understand Stiles has been trying to explain is not exactly what the festival is for!” The darach laughed to himself. “Of course, neither he nor I ever really saw Beltaine properly: Dictone would take us away from the village and leave us together in the forest, telling us to become one with nature.”

“And did you?”

“Well, we certainly became one with…each other!” He grinned, eyes twinkling in the firelight as Iordáin groaned and waved him away, cringing. “Since my exile, I’ve spent this festival alone however, marking it only with a simple fire and offerings to my own patron gods.”

“Not this time,” The hunter stood up, gesturing for Korey to join them. “My home is in the village, near the edge, better that you come with us now, I don’t want to have to be the one to explain to Stiles that you fell off the mountain after drinking too much mead!”

“He would probably turn you into something far worse than a younger version of yourself!” Korey sniggered, bumping into Theodric as the mead flushed through his body. “This is a lot stronger than I’m used to.”

“And you’ve only had a few cups too. Be still, I have you.” Theodric secured an arm around Korey’s waist, keeping him moving forward as they left the cavern, walking slowly but steadily up the entrance tunnel and out into the village proper. A cutting, cold wind was driving across the exposed streets and sliced sideways into any gaps in their clothes. “Refreshed?”

“Yes!” Korey’s teeth chattered as his head cleared, both of them following Iordáin into a low, dry stone wall building, the heavy, wooden door pushed closed by Theodric behind him. The fire had been laid in the hearth, though not lit, and Korey moved aside to let the darach light it, his magic causing yellow and orange flames to burst forth from between the logs, heating the main room of the house faster than if they had just used the flints placed next to the hearth. 

As Korey warmed up, he looked around at the house with interest, never having been inside a home that wasn’t round and made of wattle and daub. The furnishings were simple, reflective of the hunter who wasn’t frequently at home, the most well-used part of the main room was a table covered in half-made arrows and the pulled feathers for flights. The smith accepted the beaker of water that Iordáin pressed into his hand, shuffling closer to the fire as Theodric and Iordáin pulled off their heavy furs. “I like this house, it feels really safe, and, um, private.”

“Yes, I imagine you’re not used to the quietness,” The hunter grinned, unburdening himself of his travel sack and weapons. “You must hear everyone’s arguments and conversations and-”

“Fucking?” Korey smirked. “Yes, it doesn’t look as though that will be a problem here: the hearth will be nice and warm, and those walls look thick. I can’t even hear the wind outside.”

“Uh, what makes you think you won’t be sharing our bed?” Theodric frowned at him, ignoring Iordáin’s hand on his arm.

“If he doesn’t want to-”

“Korey? We won’t do…anything, if that’s what concerns you.” The darach approached him, a smile pulling at his lips. “Not unless you want us to, of course!”

“Well, Liam and I are used to mixing things up,” Korey shrugged, “You have to be with Scotti as Chieftain, even when his cock isn’t being used, he likes watching other members of the clan fucking and getting fucked.”

“Does Stiles know about this?”

“He doesn’t like it, thinks we should spend less time on pleasure and more time working.” Korey moved closer to them, placing his water on the table and pulling off his cloak, warmed up now. “But he hasn’t done anything to stop it either, well, not unless the whole village get involved and there’s no one left to mind the children or guard our borders. Then he puts his foot down, and you never disobey a druid!”

“His outburst at the stone rings is making more sense now.” Iordáin muttered to Theodric, gesturing for Korey to follow him into the other room, a wide, flat stone bench dominating the space. It was covered in furs, pelts, and woollen blankets, Theodric moving around them to ignite the tallow candles that gave the space some light, there being no windows in the room at all. “So, are you sleeping between us or not?”

“Between you?” 

“So, we aren’t tempted to, err…”

“Have some fun!” Theodric replied as Iordáin faltered. “Though you do have one of the best bodies in all the land, Korey! All that hammering really makes your arms massive!”

“Leave him be, Theodric.” Iordáin pushed the darach playfully and began stripping off the rest of his clothes. He paused, hands on the loincloth that covered his crotch and glanced at the younger man. “Korey? Uh, do you want us to keep-”

“No.” Korey flushed as Theodric sniggered at his rapid response. “I mean, whatever is comfortable for you, do it. I normally sleep naked too.”

“Good, we can all keep each other warm!” Theodric grinned, stripping off his clothing with lightning speed, his cock hard and pointing up towards his naval. The darach slid onto the bed and under the covers, only the tanned skin of his arms and collarbones hinting at what lay beneath. He eagerly watched as Iordáin undid his loincloth and stepped out of it, the hunter’s heavy cock hanging between his legs. “Mmh.” Theodric couldn’t silence his longing moan when Iordáin turned around and bent over to gather his clothes into a pile, hard, muscular ass cheeks on display. “Come on, Korey! Get in the middle!”

“I’m coming. Not like that, Theodric!” He glared at the darach and pulled his clothes off, nervously squeezing the head of his half-hard cock as he walked over to the bed and climbed across Theodric to lie between him and Iordáin. “Fuck.” Korey muttered, his dick fully hardening when the two naked men looked at him, seeing the desire in their eyes; Theodric’s obvious, while Iordáin’s was more guarded. “Um, well, it is Beltaine, and we’ve been on the road for days…”

“I won’t turn down that excuse!” Theodric smirked at Iordáin, pulling Korey down on top of him and crushing his lips against the smith’s, feeling Korey grind against his body through the furs. They broke apart a moment later and Korey rolled off him, slipping under the pelts and moving over to embrace Iordáin, kissing him with the same passion. “I know you love my dick, Iordáin, but Korey is able to fuck like nothing you’d ever expect!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter in two because for one thing, I’m strapped for time this week, and for another, the actual smut needs a good portion of words to do it justice. Plus, I want to make sure each of the clans feel unique and not rush that part of the story. The final update for this story is therefore likely on Wednesday. Thanks for reading
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Goibniu (say it: Gov-in-you) was the metalsmith of the gods, who forged the weapons which the Tuath Dé Danann used to battle the Fomorians, of which Balor was a king.


	5. Sealing the Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a time difference between Scotti and Stiles’ scenes, with Scotti’s taking place several days before Stiles and the twins. The following chapter contains strong twincest, and merged twins engaging in unprotected sex with Stiles, please practice safe sex in the real world! In addition, the merged twins will be referred to using the third person pronoun: they, their, them, etc., in case you’re confused during the scenes.

Stiles looked up at the clear, blue sky above him, the sun was warm, almost hot, on his face, no clouds to be seen all the way to the horizon. “Is it like this often? So calm and pleasant?”

“Have you never ventured into the far south of the lands?” Aiden asked him, leading the way across rolling hills and wide grasslands. “We are blessed with rich soil and fair days, not too cold in the days after Samhain, and thankfully not too dry in the depths of summer.”

“Though it is a lot warmer than your village, I imagine?” Éatán joined his brother as they crested a hill and Stiles sped up to join them. 

“Yes, I’m more used to mist and fog and the occasional day of burning summer glory.” He smiled, feeling the heat sink into his bones. Stiles joined the twins as they pulled off their heavy fur-lined cloaks. “I knew that your clan was located quite far from my own, but I did not think it would have taken eight days to get here. My apologies for forcing your villages to celebrate Beltaine without their druid and darach.”

“Oh, they’ll wait for us.” Éatán assured him, baring tanned arms to the sun, the sleeveless tunic he wore was a bright blue shade that made his handsome face stand out more. “In fact, they’ll be very pleased to have waited as it means that they’ll have another druid to honor during the festival.”

“And our warriors should have had enough time to prepare themselves for inspection, Stiles.” Aiden added with a grin, wearing an equally loose tunic, this one dyed green. “I sent word ahead with one of my blackbirds, I thought perhaps you would enjoy seeing our strength on display?”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea.” Stiles nodded, looking around at the tilled fields and large pastures for grazing cattle and sheep, they were approaching the twins’ village now. He had learned during their journey that while the clan’s settlements were spread throughout their controlled territories, the largest gathering occurred at Beltaine when they all assembled in the Chieftains’ village. “The alliance is mostly for your powerful potions and poisons, but I welcome all offers of additional strength.”

“They’re disciplined, ordered, and calm, normally.” Éatán paused, exchanging a smirk with Aiden. “Until they drink of the Berserker Fire, and then they have no equal on the battlefield. We have perhaps two dozen such warriors, though the farmers can pick up swords and axes should the need arise.”

“Gods willing, that will not be the case.” Stiles murmured, crossing over a forded river, the clan’s central settlement coming into view. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, relying only on stories the traders had brought back to imagine a place where druid and darach ruled as equal Chieftains, but the sight that greeted him as they moved through yet more freshly ploughed fields did not match the images of a walled village, or desolate fortress looking out over sun-scorched earth as had occupied his thoughts during the journey. Instead, the hamlet was more ordinary, a group of slightly taller and larger roundhouses clustered together in the midst of rolling farmland. There was a ditch and earthen bank that served as a defensive fortification and boundary for the village, unsheltered as they were by trees or mountains. Stiles followed Aiden as he led the way inside, looking around at the interior of the settlement with curiosity.

“That’s interesting.” Stiles pointed at a nearby roundhouse, seeing that they were sunk into the earth; sloped entrances or stairs dug into the ground let the villagers in and out of the dwellings, with little but the tall, conical roofs above the surface. “Why do you build them as such?”

“To better weather the heat we get in the height of summer, at the time of the solstice, it is often too hot to be outside during the middle of the day.” Éatán explained, guiding Stiles towards the smallest roundhouse in the village, close to the bank. “As you’ve noticed, I’m sure, there are no woodlands nearby; all felled long ago for wood or to clear the land. We have a lot of farms and animals but must venture ever further from the village to seek solace in the forests.”

“I can’t imagine being so far from the trees.” The druid muttered, looking around at the members of the clan that had gathered to greet them on their return. The heat was making him sweat, uncomfortable dampness causing his robes to stick to his back, the heavy wool at odds with the way the twins were dressed. _And even they seem to be ill at ease in such loose tunics._ Stiles glanced at them and then at the other men and boys in the village, their clothing was light and colorful, what little they wore around their waists, bare-chested for the most part, skin deeply tanned and healthy looking. The women had a little more modesty, sporting cut-off versions of the vests the twins wore, though they were just as colourfully decorated. “Greetings!”

 

“They will wish to greet you properly later,” Aiden placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, steering him back to the small roundhouse. “This is our home, and where you’ll be staying for the duration. The journey has been long, and we set a fast pace, perhaps some time to rest and wash the dust of the road from your body would be welcome?”

“Very.” Stiles nodded, walking inside the colder roundhouse, breathing a sigh of relief when Éatán closed the entrance with a flap of cloth, sealing them against the outside sun. Even though the interior was lit with a fire, the embers mostly provided light and a drier, more pleasant heat. The space was not crowded with furniture, as was the fashion in his own village, but was empty save for a large bed that the twins presumably shared and a long table covered in clay pots and jars, bushels of herbs hanging overhead, and faintly glowing runes carved into the wall of the roundhouse behind the table. Stiles smiled at them as Éatán offered to take his travel sack from him. “Thank you.”

“There is water here,” Aiden brought him over a pot of the clear liquid, returning to join his brother at the fire, both of them stripping out of their clothes, dumping the travel-worn cloth to one side and picking up shorter trousers from a pile, the garments similar to what their clansmen wore, though more richly decorated. 

Éatán looked up as he realized Stiles was watching them. “Oh, apologies, I should have asked if you would object to this, some modesty is expected of our people. But never among brothers, I-”

“I don’t object.” Stiles replied quickly, smiling at him, casting his eyes over Éatán’s well-built body, gaze lingering on his impressive manhood hanging between his legs. The druid’s smile grew bigger as Éatán’s cock also began to grow from the attention being paid to it. He pointed at his own heavy clothes, “Would you mind if I joined you?”

“Never.” Aiden grinned, reaching down to fondle his own rising dick.

“Excellent!” Stiles stood up, pulling his robes over his head in one motion, sighing in satisfaction as cooler air rushed over his sweat-streaked skin. “So much better!”

“Agreed.” Éatán smirked, stroking himself and glancing at his brother. “Be glad you are not here when it gets truly hot, for all that it gives a pleasing shade to our skin, it is less enjoyable to be outdoors in the burning sun.”

“Yes,” Aiden moved closer to his twin, stepping back slightly and then moving forwards so his hardened cock pressed against Éatán’s smooth hip and ass cheek. The darach met Stiles’ eyes, seeing the hunger flare within and instead of continuing to stroke himself, instead reached over Éatán’s shoulders to rub both hands down and across his brother’s chest, ending by gripping his cock and kissing his neck slowly. “Tell us, Stiles, is there one in your village that has your heart?”

“No.” Stiles wrenched his eyes away and splashed cool water in his face, the drops winding down his chest as he straightened up and stepped across the room, letting his naked form be dried by the glowing embers of the fire. “There is no one to whom I am bound. Scotti prefers to lead a life of pleasure and indulgence, which leaves much of the ruling to me. A position I do not want, but I cannot keep their respect if I am seen to be…”

“Fucked by one of them?” Aiden finished for him bluntly, sucking on his brother’s neck again as Éatán moaned and arched back into his touch. The darach shrugged, easing up on his kissing to look over at Stiles. “We understand, but you can’t just pleasure yourself in your roundhouse all the time, at least I have my brother, you don’t even have that!”

“Hmm.” Éatán groaned, reaching back to grasp his twin’s head and guide his lips back towards his neck. “You should join us, I can smell the need from here, hah, I’ve been smelling it since we started travelling together. And trust us, what occurs between us, stays here, it need not travel back with you.”

“Tempting.” Stiles murmured, wetting his lips and playing with his leaking cock. “But, we should speak about the alliance, and the war ahead.”

“And we will,” The other druid replied, reaching out to take Stiles’ hand, pulling him gently over to stand in front of them. “I know you are curious about the stories that we can merge, my brother and I, to unite together in order to fight any evil that threatens our clan and villages.”

“I have heard the tales.” Stiles shrugged, staying just far enough back from Éatán so that their hard cocks didn’t brush against each other, despite Aiden continuing to hump against Éatán’s ass from behind. “Though I am still unsure if it is a magic that comes from the house wolves you are, or merely through careful distillation of potion and tincture.”

“A little of both certainly.” Aiden explained, wrapping his arm more possessively around his brother’s chest, his chin resting on Éatán’s shoulder, Aiden’s cock now firmly sliding up and down Éatán’s smooth crack. “The first time we achieved it was similar to what we’re doing now; I had just entered him, and the magic flared between both of us, somehow merging our forms. Later, it did not take a stiff dick to create the bridge to our joining, though reliance on flesh alone is painful for us both.”

“Me more than you.”

“As you say, brother.” The darach nodded at the table on the other side of the room from their bed. “Since then, we have experimented with various potions and poultices to try and find a stable way to start the merging.”

“You know, Aiden,” Éatán said with a grin, tilting his head to look at his twin. “Maybe it would be easier to simply _show_ Stiles what we mean? Perhaps a powerful druid such as he would know of a solution to help us?”

“Hmm, he would need to study us up close and in depth!” Aiden grinned, first at Éatán and then at Stiles, seeing the druid arch a brow expectantly. He reached down, angling his cock towards his brother’s ass, the other hand reaching for the small pot of oil kept near the hearth, dipping his fingers inside and using it to grease his entry into Éatán’s hole. “Ah!”

“Mmh!” Éatán grunted at the thickness sliding inside, closing his eyes as he felt the shift envelop them.

Stiles watched in silence as the naked twins merged together, a moment of horror as the two become one in a pressing of limbs and faces, until they were unified; one person standing naked in front of him. “Impressive!” The druid walked slowly around the slightly taller and much more well-developed house-wolf, admiring the extra muscles on their chest and arms and legs, eyes widening slightly when he looked down and saw the thicker dick and heavier balls that the twins had gained. Their cock was hardening by the second, and soon stood fully erect, pointing slightly out from their body; as thick as Scotti’s, though not quite as long, it was a powerful indication of the twins’ strength. Their skin was still smooth and tanned, a little darker in fact, with no difference between the unblemished back and broad shoulders and the firm, voluminous ass. “Wow, I’m impressed that you look so…perfect.”

“Thank you.” The tone was deeper, though just the one voice spoke, not the two that Stiles had been expecting. 

“Mmh.” The druid pulled his eyes up the merged twins’ chest and towards their face, nodding to himself as he noticed the subtle way both their faces had been brought together; the same brow and nose, the stronger jaw from one, the softer lips from the other. Their eyes weren’t the deep brown that he was used to, however, replaced by the bright, glowing red of a house-wolf Alpha. “Yes, very impressive.”

 

Scotti stared up at the intimidating fortifications that encircled Coltún’s home; lines of sharpened stakes separated the inner ditch from the outer trench, wooden palisades on the banks made assault seem impossible, as if the silent rows of stone-faced warriors guarding the entrances would have let attackers get so close as to test that theory. The Chieftain swallowed hard when one of them caught him staring; a face just like any man’s, but the eyes were yellow and slitted, evidence of Findabair’s curse.

“Come along, Scotti,” Coltún called out from near the main entrance. “We close the gates at nightfall, wouldn’t want you to get stuck outside, eh?”

“No, definitely not.” The Chieftain muttered, hurrying after Lidia and into the village proper. It was situated on top of a small hill, the area levelled out to allow for the construction of about a dozen roundhouses, the perimeter fence reaching around to the carved face of the mountain that dominated the landscape; Iordáin’s clan were located on the same range. The Divide was just visible as Scotti glanced over his shoulder through the closing gate, a strip of dirt bordered by swampy marsh on either side, the only way into the northern lands. 

“Lidia will attend to the lighting of the Beltaine bonfires,” Coltún explained when Scotti caught up to him. “And you and I can talk about the alliance and our plans for what to do with all the land we’ll win by defeating Findabair!”

“Oh, err, very well.” The thought hadn’t occurred to Scotti to think about the _after_ part of the war, but he pushed it from his mind, looking around the village instead. It was very different compared to his own, the roundhouses were of similar design, though each had a tall pillar outside the door: a snarling, vicious-looking snake depicted in the wood, always in the posture of about to strike. The people kept their eyes down and avoided looking at him, save a few who stared right at him, their eyes flicking up and down his body, judgement in their eyes. Scotti did notice that these men and women were more beautiful than the rest of the clan, all young, of about his or Liam’s age, dressed in the same fashion as their Chieftain: cloaks to ward off the cold and shoes to protect their feet, gold and silver torcs hanging from their necks and arms, and almost nothing else. Their bodies were sleek and mostly pale, the men muscular and the women fair, skin decorated with weaving, confusing tattoos that looked like snakes to Scotti at first, but in another light were simple swirls. 

“You like my warriors, I see.” Coltún grinned at him, leading Scotti over to the vacant forge, warming himself in front of the smouldering embers. “And why shouldn’t you?! They are all fine, perfect members of my clan, the best of us. They are somewhat proud however, I would not look to them for company tonight, Scotti, a marvel your dick may be, they will not submit to it.”

“Oh.”

“Do not be disappointed,” Coltún threw a friendly arm about his shoulders, gesturing with his free hand. “The curse that Findabair put on our clan was terrible indeed, but not all were cursed equally. Some, like those manning the defenses, were cursed on the outside, while others, like myself, were cursed on the inside, giving us powers and abilities that have made us formidable warriors.”

“Hmm.” Scotti nodded, his eyes sticking on the other Chieftain’s oiled, muscular chest. “And what of the rest?”

“Ahh, well, they are indeed without the gods’ favor.” Coltún sighed, but Scotti wasn’t sure if the reaction was genuine. “They are cursed inside and out, though strangely the external curse is only made manifest once they reach maturity, they can be quite pleasant to look at until then.”

“And after?”

“They serve their clan out of sight.” Coltún dismissed the question with a wave. “No one should have to look at that which is hideous. But do not concern yourself, there will be plenty of open holes and wet mouths lining up to relieve you during this evening’s feast!”

“Oh, good.” Scotti’s dick twitched at the thought, instantly forgetting about the clan’s darker secrets. “Um, you wanted to talk about the alliance?”

“Come into my roundhouse, we should speak alone.”

 

Scotti sat down next to the fire, warming his hands against the chill that ran down his spine. The Chieftain’s home was the largest in the village, adorned with carved and painted sculptures of snakes and serpents, most were evil and cruel looking, though several near the sleeping area were more erotic and looked less like snakes and more like dicks, their heads shiny and polished, various sizes at various heights throughout the roundhouse. Scotti turned his attention back to Coltún, the other Chieftain having just dismissed the two handsome serving boys after they poured mead into cups for them. “Thank you.”

“Mmh,” Coltún nodded, staring at the nearest boy to him. “They will be men grown soon, and still we do not know if they will become warriors of legend or be relegated to…less fortunate tasks.”

“Uh, as you say.” Scotti muttered, beginning to wish that Stiles was here to talk to Coltún, despite the lingering resentment he had towards the druid over what had happened at the stone rings. “Um, the alliance?”

“Ah, yes, myself and Lidia were curious if you agreed to the alliance in the first place? After all, everything was done through Stiles and Theodric.” The Chieftain lent forward over the flames. “But did you want it?”

“Uh, he never really asked me.” Scotti shrugged uncomfortably. “Or maybe he did, and I just forgot about it.”

“As I thought.” Coltún smirked, nodding at the sword lying on the ground next to Scotti. “And being leader of the alliance? How do you feel about that?”

“Well, Stiles thinks-”

“The same druid who cursed you to childhood in front of the clans you’re meant to lead?” Coltún laughed and shook his head. “Do you really think that someone like that wanted _you_ to have power over him and all he does? Stiles would have taken control of the alliance if he did not think you wouldn’t make such a good puppet to dance along on his string!”

“But…hmm, he did offer the sword to me first.” Scotti frowned, deep in thought. “Does that mean that it didn’t really choose me? Maybe you should hold it and see?”

“Maybe I should.” Coltún grinned and reached forward, fingers touching the hilt, his smile widening when the gem flared. “Oh dear.”

“That liar! He said I was chosen by the gods themselves!” Scotti leapt up, outraged. “What else has he lied about?! Does Findabair even exist?”

_This is even easier than I had hoped!_ Coltún suppressed the grin that threatened to spread across his face, and stood up, placing a hand on Scotti’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, the druid is far from here and you have time to think of a plan to deal with Stiles and his schemes.”

“Hmm.” Scotti threw himself into his chair again, watching as Coltún waved at someone by the door. His eyes widened as a trio of handsome young men and one woman entered the roundhouse, wearing thongs like Coltún’s, and nothing else. The Chieftain felt his cock get hard at once and he slipped a hand under his tunic to stroke it slowly. “Um, what is-”

“Relax, my friend.” Coltún smiled at him, standing up and gesturing for the group to surround Scotti. “Enjoy the attention of some of our most skilled, err, artists: wet where it’s needed and tight where it counts! Worry not about the treachery of the druid, lose yourself instead in the finest pleasure available in the southern lands…” He watched as Scotti stood up, undressed by the men as the woman knelt down in front of him, lips parted, waiting for the monster cock to be revealed. Coltún stealthily picked up _Ceartas_ and walked silently out of the roundhouse as lustful moans filled the air.

 

“Did you get it?” Lidia asked when Coltún joined her at the entrance to the village. The Chieftain nodded and held the weapon aloft. “Good. I will need time to work out what enchantment Stiles used to make the gem glow and see if another can be placed on top of it.”

“And then we replace it.” Coltún smiled. “They are ready to crack, though Findabair’s attack will force them to join together and defeat her. It is afterwards that their divisions will allow us space to move in and take Scotti’s lands. Fionn and his clan can keep the pile of rocks they call a village, but no way they can hold the mountain and secure the forests they hunt in at the same time.”

“What of the Nemeton?”

“Yours, of course.” Coltún spread his hands wide. “You will finally be able to gain the power you need to lift the curse that haunts our people and sacrifice enough to sate the hunger of the gods. As long as you leave Scotti alive, you can take the others. I would quite enjoy having that big-dicked warrior to warm my bed every night!”

“As you say, Chieftain.”

“Hmm, well, you go do what you must, and I,” He paused with a grin, turning from her. “I am going to return to our guest and indulge in one or two of the young men he isn’t fucking!”

 

“Ahh! Fuck!” Stiles cried out as the twins’ talented lips wrapped around the base of his cock, the length buried in the hot, wet mouth of the merged brothers. They bobbed up and down rapidly on his cock with energetic groans, their hands playing with his full balls and a finger questing towards his smooth crack. “Ah! Ah! Ah!” The druid rolled his head back on the soft coverings of the bed, his legs spreading wider to let them lie on their stomach, hips bucking against the bed, ass clenching and tightening as they slurped on Stiles’ dick. He gripped the back of their head, pulling their lips up and down his shaft roughly, the flat of their tongue following along behind until they got to the head, sucking noisily and then twisting around in time to the jerking of his cock with their strong hands. “Fuck, this is amazing!”

“Yeah?” The merged twins lifted off him with a pop, a glistening trail of Stiles’ precum shining on their skin before an eager tongue darted out to swipe across their lips. “You feel really close, we weren’t sure if you truly were honest about only pleasuring yourself and not letting others of your clan to get that honor!”

“Honor?” Stiles asked, panting slightly as his balls tingled, feeling himself ready to erupt despite the twins having only just started to suck him. _I guess I have been alone since that night with Theodric and Korey…_

“It’s considered quite the honor to be chosen by a druid or darach to share their bed for a night among the people of our clan.” The merged twins explained, sitting up and stroking their own large dick, both hands needed to fully grasp the length. And yet even then, Stiles could see that there was plenty of room left over to play with. “It has happened less in recent times as we prefer to sleep with each other, but it does come to pass when a particularly handsome youth becomes a man.”

“Even in your merged form?” Stiles arched a brow. “Wouldn’t that hurt him?”

“True, but we have developed a potion for just such a time!” The twins got up and walked over to the table covered in clay pots and jars, picking up the one they wanted and returned to Stiles who had also sat up, casually playing with his cock. “The last one we had, a strong farmer who spent his time lifting rocks and breaking up the land, had arms that rival our own when we were merged. But he said that he wanted to have the seed of the unified Chieftains inside his core so that he could become stronger and more virile!” 

“Truly?” Stiles blinked, staring at the twins’ enormous arms, their posed biceps were too large for him to wrap _both_ hands around. “Perhaps he should be a warrior and not a farmer!”

“His hole was tight, however, used to fucking instead of getting fucked, with a nice, powerful cock that shot his seed all over his chest.” The twins sat back down beside him again, gesturing for Stiles to lie on his back and pull up his legs to his chest, asshole bared. The area was hairless in the custom of all the clans of the south, a soft, white crack leading to an ever so slightly pink hole, the edges pulled apart by the twins’ eager hands. They grinned as Stiles moaned at their touch, fingers dipping into the pot of clear essence and then circling around his opening. “This loosened him enough to take our cock without losing pleasure, if you’re sure this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Stiles lowered his legs enough to look at the handsome face of the merged brothers. “Like you said, this happens here and stays here, so, please make it count. Hard and fast and deep, enough for me to feel it all the days of my travel home!”

“As you wish!” The twins grinned and thrust their fingers into his ass, Stiles grunting and throwing his head back, the tightness of his outer ring fading under the potion’s rapid application. It wasn’t as though it was becoming numb or unfeeling, just as though he could be stretched more easily without the sear of pain from something so large. The merged brothers wiped their hands on a cloth nearby, waiting for Stiles to stop panting and open his eyes. “Are you ready for it?”

“I think so.” Stiles swallowed hard, looking at the monster cock held towards his ass by the twins, their hands on the lower half of the shaft. He could feel the precum-slick tip of their dick touching against his cheeks and shuffled down towards them slightly to signal they could begin pushing inside. “Go.”

“Tell us if it hurts.”

“I will.” The druid whispered, groaning wordlessly as they moved closer to him, pulling his hips down sharply to fully impale themselves inside him, the thickness stretching him, though not in any way that was unpleasant, the twins’ potion doing its job to ease the ache to a dull burn that made Stiles’ dick twitch and spasm without him having to touch it. “Ah! Fuck, that feels good!”

“Yes, we know!” The twins smirked at him, gripping his waist and leaning back suddenly, pulling Stiles into the air so they could lie on their back and the druid was able to mount them more effectively. “Take it slow, or don’t. Our dick is yours to ride as you please!”

“Mmmh!” Stiles groaned, his hands sliding from the twins’ strong arms to grip their equally hard pectoral muscles, squeezing around the erect nipples slightly as he bounced up and down on the thick cock buried in his ass. Their hands were on his ass, pulling the cheeks apart to make it easier for their girthy cock to slip in and out, the sensations almost as pleasurable as the thickness stretching his hole. He ignored his own dick, feeling the precum it was leaking dribble down his shaft and onto the twins’ smooth, tanned naval. “Ah, yes, this is perfect!” 

The merged twins grinned back and began thrusting up harder than before, rocking back and forth on the bed in time to Stiles' own movements, sweat pouring off their bodies and making the twins’ muscles gleam with the exertion, the tanned skin causing something to click inside Stiles, and something else to break near his cock, cum flying out in a sudden salvo, his hands nowhere the sensitive head. 

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Stiles grunted as the twins slowed their desperate pounding, easing into a more regular rhythm as he let his head hang, staring at the thick ropes of white cum smeared across their tanned, slick skin. “I want to be on my back.” He muttered, letting the twins control the change in position, ensuring that their cock never left his asshole. “Good, now go faster, harder, like I said earlier, I want to _feel_ this in three days hence!”

“We did say we can do that, did we not?” The twins grinned and rose up, hands gripping Stiles’ legs and pushing them back to his chest, beginning to take long, slow strokes, pulling almost all the way out, before thrusting the full length of their dick into his hole, hearing Stiles moan and cry and beg them for more. “So close!”

“Keep going! Harder!” With his legs spread apart, Stiles was now fisting his cock, the twins’ merged form no longer pulling out and in, but remaining buried inside, speed increasing as they gripped Stiles' legs and renewed their efforts, pounding into him quickly and relentlessly. They were both sweating harder now, streams pouring down the twins' smooth, muscular chest and naval, slicking up their cock every time the last few inches came out of the well-fucked hole. Stiles was moaning constantly, eyes half closed as he lost himself in the feelings and sensations of the twins' unified cock. 

Their hips moved back and forth furiously, the pace set as big balls slapped against Stiles' ass and the twins started to moan along with him, eyes closed, their unified pleasure evident on their face. He knew they were close to cumming, and as much as Stiles wanted to see more of their tanned skin covered in slick, white cum, he wanted to feel them explode inside him more. Stiles clenched his ass tight around the thick cock as the twins gave one final thrust as buried their entire length into his hole, their hands releasing his legs and instead gipping his shoulders to impale themselves fully into him. Panting, moaning, mouths open, Stiles knew they were both close, mere moments from the intense release of their pleasure. "Ah! Yes! Fuck! Ah!"

“Ah, here we go!” The twins groaned, going still suddenly as their cock jumped and shuddered inside Stiles’ hole, a flood of cum drenching the druid’s insides and leaking out onto the bed as the twins’ merged form pulled out of him carefully. They grinned, seeing that he had cum again, his head rolled back, panting. “Ah, that was good! Though we fear that perhaps you are too tired to enjoy our Beltaine festival now.”

“As long as I don’t have to move too much, I will enjoy more of your hospitality.” Stiles grinned at them, feeling relaxed and satisfied for the first time since Samhain. 

 

“There you are!” Yeshua’s shape was indistinct, fading in and out of existence, his tone distorted, though Stiles could hear the distress in his acolyte’s voice. “I’ve been trying this spell all evening!”

“It can be difficult, especially over such great distances.” Stiles replied, standing in front of the clan bonfire in the heart of the twins’ village, the sounds of Beltaine’s revelry behind him. “What has happened to prompt you to reach out to me like this?”

“It’s Scotti!” Yeshua looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “I don’t understand it, but he returned from the Divide two days ago, spoke to no one, and wouldn’t see anyone until Korey and Liam had returned. I heard fighting and swords being drawn, something happened to Korey, I’m trying to find out what it is.”

Stiles felt his blood run cold and nodded for him to continue. “Keep the runes apart and you can follow me as I walk. I’m leaving at once.”

“That’s the thing, Stiles. Scotti has said that you’re trying to take over the clan and have tricked Korey and Liam into following you using magic, that you’ve threatened to take away Scotti’s manhood and destroy the clan’s fertility.” Yeshua was whispering now, constantly looking over his shoulder as he spoke. “He’s declared you an exile and said that anyone found helping you will be banished too. They’ll-”

Stiles whirled around when Yeshua was cut off suddenly, seeing several of his clan’s warriors standing where the young man once did, their swords drawn. The druid thrust his hand forward, latching onto the magical energy of the projection and glared at the warriors. “Harm my acolyte and I will burn you from the world!”

“The Chieftain said-”

“That he would be banished for aiding me, and so he shall.” Stiles spoke over the warrior, glancing at Yeshua. “Go to the mountain clan, find Theodric, he will protect you until I return. Scotti must be under the influence of Findabair, her shadow war continues…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeshua is the Hebrew name, and its English spelling is “Joshua” i.e. Josh from season 5, and is Stiles' acolyte, training to be a druid.
> 
> The next part of the series will either take place in mid June around the Summer Solstice (21st of June) or later in August round the festival of Lughnasa.

**Author's Note:**

> Tuatha Dé Danann means "tribe of the gods"
> 
> Aiden remains Aiden as it is an original Irish name.
> 
> Ethan becomes Éatán (say it: Ay ah tawn) which is the Irish for Ethan, a Hebrew name originally.
> 
> Íosác: Irish for Isaac.
> 
> Findabair the Irish name for Gwenhwyfar which is the old name for Jennifer, the Irish meaning being "The White Enchantress" which seems appropriate!
> 
> Iordáin: The Irish version of "Jordan".
> 
> The sex sequence in Chapter Four will either be Stiles and the merged twins, or Jackson and Scott flip-flopping. I aim to do both in the future, just wondering if there’s a preference for this story?


End file.
